The Prince and the Maid

Chapter 25

Grace pov
I stood beside Ruth, in the snow. They were lowering Zoë's casket into the ground. Harry took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Ruth went up and shoveled a pile of dirt into the hole. I went after her, Harry even put a pile of dirt in. The girls from the home all hugged me for long periods of time.

We went back to the house. No one had touched Zoë's room since her death. There was dried blood on the floor. I found Zoë's sketch pad. I thumbed through it. She was an amazing artist, I wasn't lying when I told her she would have gone far. "Love, don't do this to yourself," Harry said. "You should know what it's like to loose someone you love, your mother, your great grandmother,-" Harry grabbed my and engulfed me in a hug. I sobbed. "I know, how you feel, but I'm not good with telling people it's going to be alright." He said. "Her parents didn't care about her at all, I remember once they came to visit. The entire time they were here, they criticized her, pointing out all her flaws. Where as I would say her flaws made her beautiful. And she was." I said. "I understand," he said. "I want to do something about this," I said. "You can," he said. "How?" I asked. "Your a social worker, you can figure something out." He said. "Hey, Grace." Ruth came in. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm interrupting." She walked out. "No your not," I said escaping Harry's arms. "Zoë wanted you to have her sketch book." Ruth said. I looked down at the book that was falling apart. "Thank you." I said hugging her.

-a three weeks later-
I was done grieving, Harry and I were still staying in Kensington, since I was working in a girls home in London. Today was actually my first day. And since the press followed me everywhere. I didn't take my bike to the house. I took a car five streets away from Kensington, then took a cab to the house.

I paid the diver then got out. I'd dressed nice today, but not extremely. I went up the steps and knocked on the door. A woman in her forties came to the door. "Hi I'm-" I started. "I know you who you are, Grace. It's wonderful to meet you. I'm Angie." She said shaking my hand. "Please come in," she said. "So where are the girls?" I asked. "They're down the street at the park. They like to hang out their. We have a rule, if the girls want to go somewhere, they all have to go." She said. "Understandable," I said. "Please come sit, can I get you anything?" She asked. "No I'm fine right now," I said. "Well let me tell you about the house, we have twelve girls in right now, which is our max. We help girls with all kind of issues from abuse, physically or with a substance to eating disorders, self-harm, and rebellion. Which I why they can't go anywhere with out the entire house, so they can keep each other accountable on not doing the things they're not supposed to do." I nodded as I listened to Angie talked.

We talked awhile, till the girls came back. They came in and Angie and I stood up. "Girls come to the living room." She called. The girls came in. "Girls, this is-" "Grace Miller." Two of the girls squealed. I laughed softly. "Yes, I am Grace Miller." "Girl, we're going to treat Grace like any other social worker that has come through this house." Angie said. "Alright," one said, half of the girls left the room and went upstairs. But the six that had stayed in the room. "Girls come back, we need to do morning session." Angie yelled. The six came in. Some sat on the floor. "So since, Grace is new, I want you all to say your names and why your here." Angie said. "Grace would you like to go first, and tell us your testimony?" She said. "Alright," I told the girls about how my parents were always working, and about my life after they died. "That first year, was rough. I did end up in a girls home. But I got better and I went back on my own. I sorted my emotions and stress out through running." I said. "When's the wedding?" One of the girls blurted out. "Well we've decided around July twentieth-second. Which we haven't officially announced." I said. "If you want to ask Grace about her life, you may do so after session." Angie said.

I learned the girl who was constantly asking me questions, her name was Maria and she would have mental break downs about social anxiety, apparently she never really talked and kept herself in the room she stayed in.

Later that after noon, I was helping Jasmine, one of the girls prepare lunch. "Miss. Angie, anxiety attack upstairs." One of the girls yelled. "I should go see if I can help." I said going upstairs. "Who is it, Isabella?" Angie asked. "Margo, she won't come out and she's crying." Isabella said. "Do you want to take this one?" Angie asked me. "Sure." I said.

I went in, Margo was sitting in the window frame, mascara and eyeliner snugged all over her face. "Go away," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked going over to her and sitting across from her. Margo wiped her eyes and smudged her eye makeup more. "Not unless you can bring Catherine back." She said looking out the window. "Who's Catherine?" I asked. "One of the girls who left recently, she's gotten better and her parents came and got her. And I didn't get a phone number or anything. I didn't get to even say goodbye." She cried. "Do you want a hug?" I asked. Margo nodded. I let her hug me, she continued to sob into my shoulder, as I rubbed her back. "If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, then it was truly yours." I said. Margo calmed down. And she hung around me for the rest of the day.